


Music Rushes Through Us

by my1alias



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attraction, Bottom Keith, Butting Heads, Drummer!keith, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gender-neutral pronouns for Pidge, Lead Guitarist!Pidge, M/M, PINING KEITH, Professor Coran, Rated for Language and Sexual Situations, Thace and Ulaz cameos, Top Lance, University AU, bassist!Lance, competent Keith, competent lance, musicians au, no actual intercourse happens on page, non-binary Pidge, pidge is so done with their shit, pining lance, rush - Freeform, unrealistic epilogue, written pre-Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my1alias/pseuds/my1alias
Summary: Being placed in a band together for their final project of university will not go well. Having to learn Rush’s most complex song, La Villa Strangiato, in only three weeks can only make things worse. Can Lance and Keith finally work together, or will they always be off-rhythm?





	Music Rushes Through Us

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta [quiiiznak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiiiznak), and editor, my husband (no account).
> 
> If you’re interested in hearing the song that the group picked, here it is: [La Villa Strangiato](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eK1hmDpa8bo)  
> And since I doubt you know as much about Rush as I do, here’s who the band members are:  
> Alex Lifeson, lead guitar  
> Geddy Lee, bass guitar, keyboard, and vocals  
> Neil Peart, drums, lyrics  
> They’re a Canadian band that has been around since 1968 and they’re quite incredible. They retired at the beginning of 2018. They all take turns writing the songs, with the majority of the lyrics written by Peart, which I think is pretty cool, and each of them is a legend with their respective instruments.
> 
> Oh, and yes, the title is a pun. Husband suggested it, and I couldn’t resist!

“Settle down,” Coran called out from the front of the room. “It’s time for your final project.”

At those words, the class fell silent, all eyes expectantly glued to their professor.

Coran rubbed his hands together gleefully. “The theme is a great Canadian band. You may have heard of them – Rush!”

There was a mixture of groans and cheers that greeted this announcement. Everyone knew the complexity of Rush’s songs would require a lot of hard work.

“Come now.” Coran chuckled. “You’re in your final year. You knew this wouldn’t be easy. We’ll bring in a few vocalists from the choral class to pair with the teams, so you don’t have to worry about Geddy’s vocals and can focus purely on your instruments.”

“That’s reassuring,” Lance muttered to Hunk. He ran his fingers over threadbare knees, plucking absentmindedly at the strings as if they were his bass. “I’ve heard that trying to play bass and singing their songs is like trying to walk forwards while spitting backwards.”

“Reassuring for you, maybe,” Hunk replied nervously. “Peart is considered one of the best drummers in history! How am I supposed to live up to that?” His fingers started to drum on the desk, picking up a complicated rhythm.

“You can do it,” Lance whispered. “We’ll practice together. We’ve got this in the bag.”

“You’ll be picking your teams blind,” Coran continued joyously amidst more groans from his students. He pointed at four baskets on the grand piano in the front of the room. Each was labelled; lead, bass, drums, and vocals. “There is one less vocalist than teams, so that team will have the choice of one of Rush’s instrumental songs.”

“Oh man, I do not envy that team,” chortled Lance. “Some of their most complicated shit went into those songs.”

Coran chose a name from the lead basket. “Allura, you may pick your team first.”

Hesitantly, Allura reached into the basket for drummers. “Rolo,” she said. She nodded at the man draped across his chair. He twirled his drumstick in the air and caught it before using it to salute her. Next she drew her team’s bassist. “Shiro.” She looked at the man sitting beside her empty chair and smiled shyly. He flushed lightly and returned the grin.

Lance prodded Hunk in the ribs and they smirked at each other. Maybe Allura and Shiro would finally get their butts in gear and do something about the attraction between them.

Plaxum was picked as the singer for the first group.

“Nyma!” Coran cheerfully called out as Allura sat down.

The tall beautiful blonde left her seat beside her boyfriend Rolo to pick her team from the baskets. “Shay,” Nyma called out the bassist’s name. She reached into the drummer basket. “Hunk.”

“No!” exclaimed Lance, jumping up.

“Shh!” Hunk pulled Lance back into his seat. “We can’t be together for every project.”

“But,” started Lance. He sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He glanced around the room at the other drummers. “Nobody else will be as awesome to play with as you.”

“And nobody else can live up to you, buddy,” Hunk said sappily, batting his eyes at Lance.

Lance pushed him away half-heartedly, but a small smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

“Pidge! Your turn!” Coran called the short lead guitarist up to the front of the room.

“Lance!” They grinned up at him and Lance whooped in reply, playing a riff on air guitar.

Pidge then reached into the drummer basket. Lance held his breath in anticipation. “Keith.”

Both of them looked over at the scowling figure seated in the corner chair beside Shiro. He nodded in acknowledgement before returning to stare impassively at the wall.

Lance frowned. This was not going to be pleasant.

Lastly, Pidge reached into the vocals basket. “It’s blank,” they said, after pulling out a piece of paper and opening it.

“Ah, excellent.” Coran clapped his hands. “We have our instrumental group!”

Lance groaned, slumping in his chair. This was going to be the worst final project in the history of final projects. He tuned out the rest of the groups being teamed up as he wallowed. At least Pidge was easy to work with.

~*~ ~*~

Pidge was not going to be easy to work with.

“I think that we should do one of the more complex instrumental pieces,” said Lance. “Really showcase our abilities, you know? YYZ would be perfect.”

“Ugh, I hate _YYZ_ ,” Pidge wrinkled their nose. “Why not _2112_?”

“Because that doesn’t count as instrumental. It’s only an intro to the main album.” Lance brushed the suggestion aside.

“ _Limbo_ , then?” Pidge proposed.

“ _Limbo_ is one of their easiest pieces!” Lance threw up his hands. “I could play that in my sleep!”

“ _La Villa Strangiato_ ,” interjected Keith, a blank expression on his face.

“Oooh,” Lance drew in a deep breath. “You sure you can handle that rhythm, big shot?”

“You were just talking about wanting to show off your skills. Is _Strangiato_ too much for you?” Keith snapped back. “Leave the rhythm to me.”

Pidge glanced between the two tense boys. “It’s definitely complex,” they mused. “That opening sequence with the guitar solo is going to be tricky, but the jazz section in the middle is next to impossible. Are you sure we can do this?”

“Piece of cake,” drawled Keith. He twirled a drumstick around his fingers.

“Just watch me,” seethed Lance, never taking his eyes off of Keith. He sat up straighter and looked at Pidge. “You’re the best lead in class. If anyone can handle this song, it’s you.”

“Okay…” Pidge trailed off. They took a deep breath. “I’ll go register our song choice with Coran and get the sheet music.”

Hunk dropped into the chair beside Lance, interrupting the impromptu staring contest that had started up again between him and his drummer. “Did I hear you’re doing _La Villa Strangiato_?” He whistled when Lance nodded. “Damn, that’s going to be incredible if you can pull it off. I don’t think I could manage all those rhythm changes. It’s a beast.”

“What song are you going to do?” asked Lance.

“We wanted _Freewill_ , but Allura’s group got to it first.” Hunk shrugged. “So we’re going to do _Spirit of the Radio_.”

“Oooh, good one,” said Pidge, inserting themselves into the conversation. They passed out the sheet music to their team members. “Hey, at least we didn’t have to fight anyone over our choice of song, right guys?”

Keith gave them a small smile before standing up with the sheet music. “Text me when you want to do the first run-through,” he said, and left the room.

“Ughhhh,” groaned Lance, dramatically throwing his head back over the seat of his chair. “Why can’t you trade spots with him, Hunk? We’d have so much fun with you!”

“Uh, I’d rather not attempt _Strangiato_ ,” Hunk said anxiously. “ _Radio_ is complicated enough.”

“You’ll do great, Hunk. You always do,” Pidge reassured him. They smirked and couldn’t resist adding on, “And your bassist is pretty amazing.”

Hunk flushed. “Yeah, Shay’s really good.”

Lance dragged himself out of the depths of despair to waggle his eyebrows at Hunk. “Maybe now you’ll finally go for it. Extra practice sessions, extra sessions…” He leaned over to leer up at Hunk.

“Get a grip, Lance. Nothing is going to happen, even if we do have extra practice time.”

“Not with that attitude, big guy!” Lance slapped him on the back. “A good start is asking her out for coffee. Or to watch the buskers downtown. Or to go busking yourselves!”

Hunk looked thoughtful. “Maybe after the project is over. I don’t want to make the group dynamic weird.”

“Good point. Plus by then you’ll know how well you work together, if you know what I mean.” Lance grinned playfully. He picked up the sheet music for La Villa Strangiato and scanned it. “That little fucker,” he muttered under his breath. “This will take me forever to get right.”

“Giving up already?” asked Pidge, one eyebrow raised.

“No!” Lance sputtered. Then he thrust the music under their nose. “But have you seen how many time signature changes there are in this? How do you even count that?”

~*~ ~*~

After a week of intensive practicing on top of his regular classes, Lance was finally able to play the whole song straight through without making any mistakes. In one of the school’s practice rooms, he carefully placed his bass down, avoiding the keyboard in front of him, and wiped the sweat off his brow with the bottom of his shirt. A flash of movement at the window in the door caught his eye and he smiled to himself. Yet another fourth year heading to practice their song, he thought. He’d run into most of his classmates in the practice room hallway during the past week, all of them frantically trying to learn their parts in the three short weeks before they had to perform.

He cracked his fingers one by one before picking up his instrument again. “One more time,” he cheered himself on. “Then you can text that you’re ready for a group session.”

~*~ ~*~

Keith POV

Outside Lance’s practice room, Keith stood, face flushed, ear pressed to the door. Sure, he had thought the bassist was attractive, but listening to him play one of the most complicated songs he’d ever heard was quite the eye-opener. And then he’d flashed his toned abdomen as he wiped his face. Keith swallowed hard. Competent, clever, and attractive? He was _so_ fucked.

~*~ ~*~

“Alright, everyone ready?” Pidge asked, looking over their shoulder. At the answering nods, they started the complex fingering that started the song. Lance entered with the keyboard right on schedule, with Keith picking up the rhythm with light percussion after that. Switching to bass, Lance stepped back from the keyboard and found the rhythm that Keith was setting. He grinned. They sounded so good!

Pidge picked up the pace, Lance and Keith following seamlessly into the next section of the song. The bass drum thudded heavily in Lance’s veins.

That’s when it all fell apart. Lance missed a beat, Keith fumbled his snare, and Pidge’s fingering hit the wrong notes.

They stopped playing and stared at each other.

“Again,” said Pidge calmly. They managed to make it through the first and second parts, but everyone got confused when they bridged into the jazzy third section.

“Fuck!” screamed Lance. “These time changes are impossible at this speed!”

Keith twirled a drumstick thoughtfully. “Maybe we should try each section separately? Just so that we can say we’ve managed to practice the whole thing once?”

“Good idea,” mused Pidge. “We’ll start from the third. Count us in.”

The rest of the practice was unpleasant, to say the least.

“I thought you said you’d practiced!” screamed Pidge at Lance after a particularly grueling guitar solo.

“I did! I would have been fine if mister drummer here was able to hold the rhythm!” Lance shouted back, throwing his hands in the air.

“Oh sure, blame the drummer,” Keith scoffed. “Your own playing shouldn’t be affected by mine.”

“So you admit that you were off!” Lance pointed wildly.

“Yeah, I was,” scowled Keith. “Neil Peart himself had longer than a week to practice and even he admitted that this song was practically impossible to play. So don’t get all high and mighty on me!”

A knock on the door interrupted their shouting match. It was Coran.

“Hello there! How’s your practice going?” he asked, twisting one corner of his moustache.

Sighing, Pidge admitted, “Pretty badly, Professor.”

“Hmm,” Coran looked around the room at the dejected faces. “Maybe you should do some more work solo before meeting back together. You could even try in pairs for a while after that. This is a very complex song that you’ve chosen. You’ll be able to get it, with a lot of work,” he reassured them. “Some of the other students in your class wouldn’t be able to handle this, but I approved your choice for your team because of how good all of you are.”

“Thanks, Professor.” Lance rubbed a hand over his face. “That really means something, coming from you.”

“I think we all needed to hear that,” agreed Pidge. “Let’s take a break, team. We’ll try the Professor’s suggestion.”

~*~ ~*~

Less than a week later, it was time for Lance and Keith to meet for their practice session. Lance was feeling mildly optimistic. His time with Pidge the day before had gone very well, with only a few mishaps. Pidge had told him that their practice with Keith the day before that had been just as smooth. So, this session with Keith should be even better, Lance reasoned. Pidge would be joining them afterwards for a group run-through.

He had arrived slightly early, so he rolled up his sleeves and got his station set up the way he liked it, with the keyboard off to the side and plenty of room to move around once he started playing his bass. Lance was going over the fingering for section five when Keith entered. He stalked past Lance and up onto the drum stage, shuffling pieces around to make room for the extra drums required by the song.

Lance kept one eye on the drummer as he worked his way through the bassline of the section, tendons twitching in his forearms. Keith lifted the second bass drum into place and rearranged the high hats and snares until he stepped back and nodded in satisfaction.

“Ready to start?” asked Lance, riffing off section six.

Keith scowled and sat behind the expanded drum kit. He ran his sticks over the set, bouncing from the force of the kicks to the basses. He shifted one of the bass drums a millimetre to the left, a high hat to the right, and nodded at Lance. “Count us in,” he said stiffly.

Throughout the two-hour long practice, Lance faced Keith so that they could work better together. He was impressed by the amount of stamina that Keith had – the extensions to the drum kit meant that he had a real workout.

As time wore on, the practice room got stiflingly hot.

“We’re never booking this side of the hall in the afternoon again,” bemoaned Lance, wiping his face with a towel. “I don’t care if all the other rooms are booked. We’re going to have our practice at someone’s house instead.”

“Mine,” grunted Keith in agreement. He whipped his shirt off over his head, using it to dry off the back of his neck before dropping it behind him. “I don’t want to have to lug my kit around the city.”

“Fair,” squeaked Lance. The stage and drums hid most of Keith’s body from view, but he caught glimpses of muscled abdomen peeking through the metal, not to mention the lines of muscle in his shoulders. He cleared his throat. “You want to tie up your hair before we get back to it?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t have anything to tie it up with.”

Lance thought for a moment before bending over his backpack and digging into the front pocket. “I think my sister Veronica tucked a thing in here… aha!” He pulled out a bright pink hair elastic triumphantly.

Wrinkling his nose, Keith accepted the object tossed to him over the drums. Despite the colour, he pulled his hair back off his neck in quick, practiced twists. “Shall we continue?”

After struggling through another round, Lance finally threw up his hands in disgust. “This is impossible without the melody line. We need to get Pidge in here.”

“What we need is for you to focus,” growled Keith.

“I am focussed!” shouted Lance. “I’m so focussed on this damn song that I could play it in my sleep!”

“Then what do you need Pidge for?” Keith scoffed. “Play your fucking part and stop holding the team back!”

“Oh, that’s rich,” sneered Lance. “Me, holding you back? You’re the one who hasn’t been able to play the whole song through without a break.”

Keith glared. “I’d like to see you try it.” He got up and stalked around the drum kit towards Lance. “Do you have any idea how complicated this song is for a drummer? Have you listened to Neil’s interviews about this wretched, fucked up song?” Keith ran his hands through his hair, forgetting that he had put it up and snagging his fingers on the elastic. He ripped it out and threw it at Lance’s feet. “I’m done for today. Get out of here!”

“Fine by me, mister bossy pants,” Lance seethed, carefully putting his bass in its case. “And what are you going to tell Pidge when they show up in an hour for the group practice and ask how our three hour session went?”

“I’ll tell them the truth.” Keith glowered at him. “That you can’t focus for that length of time and we called it early.”

“What the fuck?” Lance stood up and moved into Keith’s space, jaw clenched and eyes flashing. “I can totally focus for three hours! You just don’t have the stamina to keep going for that long!”

Smirking, Keith quirked an eyebrow up. “Oh, I have the stamina.” He crossed his arms and leaned further towards Lance. “I’ve gone for three hours, easy.”

Flustered, Lance spluttered incoherently.

Fortunately, Pidge chose that moment to enter the room. They took one look at the angry men standing inches away from each other and scowled. “I can see that a lot of practicing went on here today. Good thing I got here early. What is it this time?”

“Well he—”

“He said—”

“Sorry,” Pidge interrupted them both with a raised hand. “I’ve decided I don’t care. Will this little disagreement affect your ability to focus on the practice today?”

“I can’t speak for his stamina, but I’m perfectly able and willing to remain focussed,” said Lance, continuing to glare at Keith.

“Yeah, right,” Keith scoffed. “Bring it.”

Lance flinched, Keith’s breath wafting over his face finally showing him just how close they had gotten to each other.

“No. Nope. I’m not working with you two when you’re like this.” Pidge turned around and opened the door again. “Fight, fuck, whatever. Get it out of your systems and we’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at seven sharp.” With one more disgusted look at the guys, they slammed the door behind them.

Lance flushed a dull red across his cheekbones. “Well, they obviously misread the situation.”

Keith had a matching strawberry hue across his features, but it crept down his neck and spread down his chest. “Obviously,” he parroted.

“Yeah, ‘cause we wouldn’t want to,” Lance swallowed and tried to keep his voice level, “fuck.” His eyes flicked down to trace over Keith’s upper torso, taking in the rosy flush. “Right?” His voice cracked.

“Is that a question?” Keith licked his suddenly dry lips. He raised a hand, reaching out to Lance. Halfway there, he stopped and dropped it.

“Fuck it,” Lance rasped. He brought his hands up to Keith’s face, cradling his jaw. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Keith’s eyes widened. When Lance leaned in, he didn’t pull away. Lance paused a beat away from Keith’s lips. “What are you waiting for?” Keith whispered.

“You didn’t say yes,” Lance responded quietly. “As romantic as it sounds to steal a kiss—mmph!”

Keith cut him off, closing the distance between them. His hands came up to grip Lance’s hips, pulling the other boy flush against him. Their heads tilted to get a better angle and Keith opened his mouth when Lance bit his bottom lip.

Pulling back a bit, Lance murmured, “I don’t kiss anyone without consent.” He brushed his lips over the bite, sucking it into his mouth. “That would be creepy.”

“Lance?” Keith gasped. At Lance’s questioning hum, he continued, “shut the fuck up and kiss me properly.”

Chuckling lowly, Lance walked Keith backwards until he was pressed up against the door and locked it. “Now, where were we?” He didn’t wait for an answer, dipping down to slide his lips against Keith’s. Their breath mingled when they gasped for air. “Ohhh, fuck,” Lance moaned, grinding his hips into Keith’s body. He kissed along the other boy’s jawline, his hands trailing back to grip the long hair. The skin under Lance’s tongue was slightly salty from the cooling sweat.

“Lance!” groaned Keith. He tilted his head back to give Lance access to his neck. When Lance bit down gently on his collarbone, his knees buckled. “Shit.”

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned,” Lance said in between open-mouth kisses along Keith’s skin. “But you are such a fucking good drummer.” He nuzzled the other boy’s nose before licking into his mouth. “Makes me so hot,” he gasped.

Keith hummed appreciatively and let his hands wander, caressing Lance’s forearms before sliding underneath his shirt to run along the muscles he found there. “You picked up the composition before either of us and you look so good playing your bass. You should always wear your sleeves rolled up. The muscles here…” he trailed off, flushing.

“Yes?” Lance pulled back with a smirk. “You like it when I finger my guitar?” He brought his mouth close to whisper in Keith’s ear. “I bet you’d like it better if I fingered you.”

“Oh fuck, yes,” whimpered Keith. He tried to take off Lance’s shirt; when that didn’t work, he started to fumble with his belt buckle.

“Whoa there, babe.” Lance stopped him. “I don’t know about you, but I have nothing on me for sexy times, seeing as I wasn’t expecting to get it on today during practice.” He chuckled. “Since our team leader has so kindly given us the rest of the day off, why don’t we take advantage of the free time and head back to my place? We’d be an awful lot more comfortable in a bed, not to mention out of this heat.”

Keith ducked around Lance, confusing him. He started gathering his belongings, yanking his shirt back on over his head. “Well? Why are you standing there? Get your shit together!” he barked.

Lance grinned. “Sounds good, kitten.” He quickly packed up his bass and slung his backpack over one shoulder.

“We should go to mine, though. We can run through the song a couple more times after we have sex,” Keith suggested bluntly.

“I’m not sure which offends me more.” Lance raised one eyebrow. “That you think that sex with me will be quick enough to have time to practice, or that you think you’ll have enough energy to play the drums after I’m done with you.”

Keith shivered with anticipation. “Bring it.”

~*~ ~*~

“And last but certainly not least, we have Team PKL!” shouted Coran into the microphone at the year-end concert. “They will be performing _La Villa Strangiato_ for us tonight. Put your hands together for Pidge, Keith, and Lance!”

They entered the stage to applause from their classmates and families. Lance hammed it up for the audience while Keith adjusted the drum kit to his liking. Pidge fiddled with the foot pedals at their station.

“We don’t need this,” said Lance into the microphone, before shifting it off to the side. “Are you ready to have your minds blown?”

The audience erupted in cheers.

Lance shot finger guns as he stepped back to the keyboard, shifting it to face the audience.

Pidge looked at their teammates. They nodded back at them and they bent over their guitar to pick out the soft first few notes before launching into the first guitar solo.

Lance watched the audience’s mouths drop open and grinned. _Oh man, this is going to be fun_ , he thought. He ran his fingers over the keyboard and heard Keith come in on tempo. His muscle memory led him into the next section of the song, picking up his bass and strumming it to the rhythm of the music.

The jazzy middle section gave them all a moment to breathe, at least until Pidge’s guitar solo. Then it was Lance’s turn to have the spotlight. The rush of adrenaline as he kept the beat and fast pace thrummed in his veins.

The next section was more upbeat and showcased Keith’s skills. Lance turned to face Keith, rocking his body back and forth just like he’d seen Geddy Lee do at the last concert he went to. He whipped around and rocked out next to Pidge, playing off of each other. They grinned up at him. They were rocking it!

Finally they bridged into the last section of the song; the last guitar solo, the last bass chord, the last drum riff, and the song ended.

The audience leapt to their feet, cheers and applause filling the air. The team on stage grinned at each other. They’d done it! Keith came out from behind the drum kit to stand with the others for their bow. Lance threw himself into Keith’s arms.

“We did it, babe!” he shouted over the raucous cheering. “That was amazing!” He kissed him amidst catcalls.

“If I could have quiet, please.” Coran swished the microphone cord as he walked to the front of the stage. He waited until the audience had sat back down. “You three can stay here,” he said to the team still standing on the stage.

They moved to the side, standing behind Pidge’s station.

“When I assigned this project, I didn’t tell the class that the top grade would get a special prize,” Coran said, beaming at his students. “And after what I’ve heard today, well, let’s just say that they deserve it. May I introduce the CEOs of Marmora Records, Thace and Ulaz!”

The audience clapped politely, the students in shock.

Two well-dressed gentlemen climbed the stage and Coran surrendered the mic to the man with the full beard. “Hello, my name is Thace. I have to say that I am very impressed with the hard work that all of you put into this performance. Our intention is to offer the team with the highest grade a recording contract. However, we don’t need to see the final grades to know that we want the last team, PKL, to sign on with us. We haven’t seen talent like that since Rush themselves!”

Ulaz leaned over to the microphone. “What do you say? Are you interested?” He looked over to the shocked faces of the team.

They looked at each other, slow grins creeping across their faces.

“We say ‘hell yes!’” shouted Lance to cheers from the audience.


End file.
